


Libertas

by Sunshinegrimes



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Borderline Personality Disorder, Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, Dex has issues, Everyone Has Issues, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Matt has issues, Matt's Catholic Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 21:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinegrimes/pseuds/Sunshinegrimes
Summary: "People knew Dex, they liked Dex, but at the same time, they knew nothing at all."6 months after Wilson Fisk's arrest, Dex shows up at Matt's apartment, unarmed and walking. Rather than turn him away, Matt gives him one last shot at redemption.----*SPOILERS FOR THE END OF DAREDEVIL S3*Tags and warnings will change as this fic updates!





	Libertas

Knowing Benjamin Poindexter was easy, at least, that’s what people thought.

At the FBI, people knew Dex, they would say he was dependable, a brilliant shot. They would say he was quiet, capable, objective. Before Fisk, they saw his easy smile, his likeable charm, his ‘Yes Sir’, ‘No Sir’, ‘How can I help you Sir?’ attitude. He was the co-worker who remembered birthdays, weddings, who brought coffee when you were having a shitty day. People knew Dex, they liked Dex, but at the same time, they knew nothing at all.

The reality, once hidden under meticulous layers of deception and manipulation, had been dragged screaming into the light. With a reputation as big as Dex’s, it had cast a terribly large shadow.

When Dex had turned up at Matt’s apartment 6 months after Fisk’s arrest, with nothing but a bag slung over one shoulder, and a quiet confession of having nowhere else to go, Matt had invited him in with an enormous amount of reservation. Dex had been unarmed, which didn’t mean anything, as Matt knew by now that anything and everything could be used by Dex as a weapon. He was quiet, on edge, and a rumbling in Dex’s stomach informed Matt that he was hungry, and had been for a while now. Although on most other fronts he seemed to be taking care of himself, Matt knew a life on the run, as well as Dex’s chronic emotional instability, meant he couldn’t stay in the shadows very long.

Over lunch, Matt had talked, and Dex had listened, about the fallout from Fisk’s uprising, and the damage that had been left when his empire had crumbled into dust. They sat opposite each other at Matt’s coffee table, Matt in one of the arm chairs and Dex on the long sofa, staring distantly towards the window, his knee bouncing, nervous. Tentatively, Matt brought up Ray Nadeem, the agent’s family, and Foggy and Karen who were adjusting to normal life again. Fisk had left so much for the city to sort out, had created case after case of people who were screwed over, used, and manipulated. Matt tried not to sound accusing, purposefully leaving out any mention of Dex’s contribution for now. There was, Matt had confessed with a wry smile, certainly no shortage of work for the three of them, and Dex listened with his hands curled around a cup of coffee. It was decaf, as Matt rightfully suggested the caffeine might not be the best for his current state.

“What about you, Dex?” Matt had asked, and Dex seemed to zone back in from his idle listening, his heart rattling in his chest and his shoulders stiff with tension. Dex hadn’t touched his food yet, too keyed up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now the attention was back on him, Dex held his breath. His flight or fight instinct was shot to shit, and Matt could tell it was hard for Dex to relax. Still, it would nowhere near be the first time a suspect, or a client, had to be coaxed into talking, so Matt kept his voice quiet, trying not to escalate the other man’s unease. Matt decided to start small, working his way under Dex’s defences. “Have you been eating?” A hum. “Sleeping?” Another hum, and a slow exhale, but Dex’s heart still maintained its flighty pace. “Can I get you some clothes? Maybe something warmer to wear?”

“No. No thank you.”

“Alright…Do you mind if I ask how you’re walking? Fisk broke your spine, that’s not something you spring back from easily.”

“ _No_.” The door to that conversation was abruptly slammed in Matt’s face. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Matt could feel Dex’s gaze staring him down, challenging him to press harder. For once, Matt chose not to give in to the fight.

“Okay, then we won’t.” Matt held up his hands in surrender, licking his lips softly before having a bite of his own sandwich. Dex would eat when he was ready, Matt surmised, as he recalled an anecdote he had learned at college, about the brain’s survival association between eating and being in a safe space.

Foggy had used it as an excuse to chew gum before every exam, and their shared room had been stocked with snacks to get through their strenuous finals. Matt made a mental note to himself then, that if Dex intended to stick around for more than a day or so, he would go out and buy a few snacks that Dex could graze on alone, when he didn’t have the social energy to commit to a full meal. “Can I ask you something else?” A replying hum meant that Matt’s progress at drawing Dex out was a few steps back, but still, he persevered. “Tell me Dex, honestly, did you come here because you trust me?”

“I don’t know.” Dex’s voice was rough, and Matt heard the scratch and squeak of the soles of his boots on the floor. His knee had finally stopped bouncing. Matt listened for a few seconds, doubtful, but ascertained by the heightened, but steady thumping of his heart, that he was telling the truth.

“You know what? That’s fine too.”

 _“Fine?”_ Dex echoed, and Matt stretched his legs out, folding his arms. He was finished eating, and he noticed Dex’s stomach made another low whine.

“Yeah. It’s okay not to know what you want.” Matt tilted his head, rolling his shoulders in a slow shrug. He didn’t want to sound belittling, knowing how many support systems had failed Dex in the past. Matt would have to choose his next words carefully, if he didn’t want Dex to turn a cynical ear to his guidance. “Recently I was doing a little soul searching myself, trying to figure out who I wanted to be, not sure which direction to start moving in. Now, I know we’re not the same, we come from very different paths, made very different choices along the way, but the fact you’re not here pointing a gun at my head right now shows you’re at least trying to take a few steps towards being a better you.” Matt rubbed a hand over his knee, aiming a smile in Dex’s direction. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yeah.” Dex’s voice was thicker, and his eyes must have started welling up, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. As the sudden sharp taste of salt in the air made Matt press his tongue to the back of his teeth, fighting back his instinct to console, to potentially overload Dex with emotion. Matt waited, and listened, as Dex’s damp, muffled breaths became clearer, and the heat radiating from his cheeks slowly receded. His message to Dex had been clear enough: although Matt did not waive away his sins, had not yet forgiven him for the crimes he had committed under the influence of Fisk, he recognised that Dex was, perhaps without even realising it, trying to change for the better. “Thank you.” Dex swallowed tightly.

Very slowly, Dex raised his coffee to his lips, and took a small sip of the now-lukewarm liquid. Dex must have enjoyed it, as Matt heard him sigh, and take another, then another, until the swishing sound of fluid inside the china was completely gone. Needing to set the now-empty mug down on the coffee table, provided the bridge Dex needed to scoop up his sandwich plate, and although he rested it on his knees without taking a bite, Matt wasn’t about to push him to eat.

“I’m gonna wash up, and make some more coffee, okay? Take all the time you need with that.” Matt was careful to tell Dex exactly what he was planning, in case suddenly standing up caused any alarm.

Dex just nodded, and Matt took his time standing up, giving Dex a wide berth on his way to the sink with his own dishes, and Dex’s empty mug. It was a long time before either of them spoke again, and Matt was drawn out of his introspection on the conversation so far to the very small sound of bread being pulled off of the corner of one of the sandwiches. Matt smiled to himself, pretending not to have heard, but he listened as Dex placed the tiny bite in his mouth. Dex chewed mechanically, swallowed, before the small _rrrrrip_ sound was back again.

Matt busied himself drying up, all the while noting that the further Dex got into the sandwich, the slower his heart became, eventually levelling out to an ordinary _thud-thud_ that was a mile away from its previous pounding. By the time Dex was pinching up the last few crumbs of his meal, Matt had washed up, dried, and put away the dishes, and had made both of them a fresh cup of coffee. Matt carried their drinks over to their seating area again, and placed them down carefully on the table, before resuming his spot from earlier.

“Can I get you anything else to eat?” Matt offered and was met with a small shake of Dex’s head, followed by a small twist of fabric as he worried a seam on his jeans. “Look, Dex, I don’t know what your plans are, or if you have a place to stay that’s safe, but if you need to, you’re welcome to stay.” Matt still wasn’t sure why he was making Dex, of all people, such an offer. The man had tried to kill him, his friends, and he had killed many good people. He had aided and abetted in multiple crimes, and likely would do so again.

However, if he turned Dex out into the cold, the chances of Dex settling down with a new life, unharmed, without hurting anyone, and without being taken advantage of by the next Fisk figure that got a hold of him, were incredibly slim. Part of Matt knew that Father Lantom would have wanted him to forgive Dex, or at least try to help him, and perhaps that was good enough to allow him the benefit of the doubt. Keeping Dex here would be like keeping a hurricane in a bottle, but the alternative was much, much worse.

While Matt had been considering the profoundness of his offer, Dex had taken up his fresh mug of coffee. He was slowly rubbing the pad of his thumb against the boiling hot body of the mug, circling against the heated surface, and drawing back only at the last second when the heat became too intense for his skin. It was a monotonous, stimulating gesture, and Dex did this multiple times. Every time, he left it a little longer, almost burning himself, until Matt felt compelled to prompt him again.

“Dex?” To Matt’s relief, Dex shook himself out of that repetitive motion, his thumb tucking squarely against the handle of the mug as if hiding it. He needn’t have bothered, Matt could feel the skin rapidly reddening, though he had thankfully not burned himself.  
“I’d like that.” Dex gave Matt the smallest of nods, but didn’t expand, didn’t ask questions. Matt was beginning to think Dex hadn’t been listening at all, had been lost in some mental tangent, when the other man continued. “I won’t be any trouble.”

“Well, there will be conditions.” Matt set his coffee on his knee, and ran his free hand down his face, scratching at his throat slowly. “First off, and this is the most important rule Dex: You can’t kill anyone, if you want to stay here. You’re not a prisoner, you can come and go as you please, but if I find out you’ve killed anyone, this stops. Secondly, and this is also important: You don’t deliberately do anything that will bring trouble into your life, mine, or anyone I care about. That means no going around making yourself a target for criminal organisations, law enforcement or otherwise. I know sometimes these things can’t be helped, someone jumps you on the street or someone from your past tries to pull you back into that life, but Dex, I don’t want anything bad to happen to the people I care about. With Fisk back in prison, I’m finally getting my life back together, and so is everyone else. If you stay here, that makes you partially responsible for maintaining that peace, okay?”

“Okay.” Dex nodded, but this time, he sounded wearier than before, the single word tinged with so much pain. Matt couldn’t blame him, if he had done the things Dex had, the guilt would be eating him alive too.

“There’s one more thing, it’s still just as important, but it’s more like an advisory.” Matt paused, licking his lips, and on the other side of the table, Dex subconsciously copied the gesture.

“What’s that?”

“I know we didn’t get off to the best of starts, and I know we’ve both hurt each other, but I want you to know that if there’s a problem, if you’re not happy, or if you’re struggling with something, you can tell me. I might not be able to fix it, I might not understand it, but I’ll listen. You see, I think you’re used to keeping a lid on things, making sure you don’t upset the apple cart. That objectivity can work, to some extent, but if you want to change, you have to be reflective, learn to look at your past actions and build on them. Now I know, I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist or anything like that, but I want you to try and tell me if something’s upsetting you.”

“Yeah, okay.” This time, Dex sounded a little stronger. He was still at rock bottom, and Matt knew he would be for a while, until he established a routine and some sense of stability, but for now, even hearing tentative optimism in Dex’s voice was better than the guarded humming from before. 

It would take time. Matt was under no illusions that he was signing up for an easy ride. This Dex, the one that had dragged himself to Matt’s door, was different to the wrathful, bloodthirsty Dex that had confronted him in Fisk’s hotel suite. Between that fight, and now, it was obvious that something more had broken in Dex than just his spine, but whatever damage Dex had endured, Matt was determined to do all he could to help. 

Just then, Matt’s phone began to cheerfully chirp Foggy’s name.

“Excuse me.” Matt murmured, and he crossed the room to collect the phone from his kitchen counter. Dex’s heart had picked up again, and he twisted his torso around to watch as Matt answered the phone. “Hey.”

“Hey Matt, did you oversleep again?” Foggy’s voice brought a wave of calm over Matt’s body, bringing him back to reality after the intense last few hours. Matt hadn’t realised how tense he had been, how much he had been on eggshells around Dex, and Matt leant back against the counter and flashed a reassuring smile in Dex’s direction.

“No, I’m awake, I just got-”

“Side tracked? We’re supposed to be having lunch at Karen’s. She’s _very_ offended, by the way, thinks it’s something to do with her cooking.” Foggy’s tone of voice implied this was absolutely not the case, but Matt humoured him anyway.

“Well, after the quesadillas, I’m surprised she’s even got a working stovetop.”

“ _Ouch Murdock! You’re going to pay for that later.”_ Karen’s voice called from the background, of course Foggy had put him on speaker phone without telling him first.

“Leave it up to Matt to put his foot in his mouth as usual.” Foggy teased, and Matt ran a hand over his face, trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

“I’ll be over soon, I’ve just got some personal things to sort out, okay?” Matt licked his lips. Dex had started to shift on the couch, and he stood up.

“We’ll wait, remember to bring those files from the McGlinchy case, Karen wants to cross reference a few details.”

“Sure thing Fogs. I’ll see you in about an hour.” Matt hung up after a few more goodbyes, dumped his empty coffee mug in the sink, and turned to face Dex who was now stood next to the window. Dex seemed tense, so Matt stayed on his side of the room for now, sliding his phone into his pocket. “I’m going to visit Karen and Foggy, you’re welcome to stay here, make yourself at home.” Dex didn’t reply, just shifted on the spot, so Matt continued. “I won’t be out too late, I can pick up dinner on the way home?” Dex’s jaw clenched, released, clenched, released. He seemed to process Matt’s words at length, as if they were coming from another language entirely, before he exhaled in a heavy sigh and nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you’re alive just yet, not until you’re ready. Coming back from the dead isn’t something that should be rushed, believe me, I know.”

“Thanks Matt.” Dex crossed the kitchen, stepping past him to wash up not only his own mug, but Matt’s as well. When he heard the water start to pour, Matt turned on the spot, holding up a hand placatingly.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that Dex. I can…” Matt trailed off as he heard Dex scrub at the china meticulously, until it was almost sterile, before washing his own hands twice. Matt waited until he was done, before continuing. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” Dex must have aimed a look in his direction, as he paused long enough holding the dish towel, before he moved past Matt to sit back down on the sofa. He huddled up again, and stared out the window as he listened to the city, a comforting background hum to Matt’s warm apartment.

Taking that as a signal that Dex wanted to be left alone, Matt gathered his things up quietly, pulling on his shoes and zipping up his coat, knowing from the light patter of snow outside that it would be a cold walk to Karen’s place. He could take a taxi, but Matt still felt uneasy getting into them, memories of crashing, of flooding, icy water, keeping him well away from flagging one down.

The walk to Karen’s gave him time to reflect, anyway, on the sudden sharp turn his life had taken in the last 3 hours alone. Part of Matt knew from experience, that even though Dex’s back had been broken, even though he would be in police custody, and likely serving a heavy sentence, that there was always a chance he would run into him again. In Matt’s line of work, endings and goodbyes were rarely anything but. People were more likely to disappear into the shadows, lick their wounds, and emerge again for another round. Had Dex come vowing revenge for Matt’s slights against him, and angry at the world for letting him down in so many ways, Matt could have squared his shoulders and faced him down. He would have backed Dex into a cage, like he had done with Fisk, thrown away the key, and ensured he never harmed another person again.

This broken, repentant man, weighed down by guilt and haunted by trauma, twisted Matt’s soul in many different ways. Matt would derive no pleasure from locking him up, wouldn’t feel victorious for punishing him for his crimes. It was true, as much as he wanted to pummel Dex into the floor, to make him suffer, and break his neck for killing Father Lantom, Agent Nadeem, and for all the people he had killed and hurt and used along the way, Matt knew in the long run that it was wrong to solely condemn the other man for his actions.

That night, from the roof of the Presidential Hotel, Matt had heard the commotion that surrounded Fisk’s arrest, and his subsequent separation from Vanessa. He had also heard the quieter, more solemn arrest of Dex, who lay paralysed, helpless to the whims of Mahoney and his squad. They had a team of paramedics transfer Dex, who was half conscious, to a stretcher, then an ambulance. Although no one acted physically aggressive towards him, the emergency services paid Dex’s slurred, distressed speech no heed.

_“Off…take…take it off…take it…”_

Matt had heard Dex ask, over and over, for almost 10 minutes, for someone to take the Devil mask off, presumably so he could see better. One of the officers, who had clearly no patience after what had been an already long day, snapped at Dex to _shut up_. Dex had been quiet after that. It had seemed as though Dex’s identity had been stripped away, and he was simply another dead body, fallout from the conflict that needed to be swept up and carted away.

Matt had heard the ambulance wail into the night and had let out a sigh of relief. At the time, he had been happy, knowing that Dex’s fate was sealed. He would be filed away into a cell, another fallen piece in Fisk’s game, with no one to miss him, or visit him, alone until he eventually took his dying breath.

Winning had felt good. Matt remembered returning to his apartment, limping, bruised, and covered in not only his own blood, but the blood of so many others who had stood between him and Fisk’s surrender. He had been bone-achingly tired, ready to sleep for a week, but instead of the hollowed-out emptiness that he had experienced during his recovery from Midland Circle, Matt was filled with a vast, and insurmountable feeling of liberation. He had broken down, crying, whilst standing under the hot spray of the shower, his soul feeling weightless and finally, _finally,_ free from guilt. He had called Foggy, reassured him that everything was alright, and arranged to meet the next day, when he was less exhausted, and more coherent. Later, as he dozed off on his bed, buried in his familiar silk sheets and the familiar ambience of his apartment, Dex had been the furthest thing from his mind.

Now, as he strode down the sidewalk, cane tapping from side to side, Dex was the only thing consuming his thoughts. Dex wouldn’t open up to him about the last 6 months, not right now, but Matt hoped he would come around, if only to make it easier when he informed Karen and Foggy of Dex’s return. They would react badly at first, especially Karen, but Matt had faith that he could convince them of… of what?

Dex was severely mentally ill. Dex was also incredibly dangerous. While those two things were not mutually exclusive, (many people Matt encountered in his line of work were mentally ill), simply having a mental illness did not make Dex a danger to society. Matt was reminded of Frank Castle, whose PTSD made him prone to instability, but who also underneath his symptoms was also a good man, who wanted to protect and help others. If given the right support, Dex’s symptoms could be managed, but in the time Matt knew him, Dex had undeniably manipulated by Fisk. Fisk had researched Dex’s background in depth, took advantage of Dex’s condition, and his fear of abandonment for his own means. He had isolated Dex from the FBI, from Julie, from any support systems that might have benefited him. He may have left a trail of destruction in his wake, but Dex was as much of a victim of Fisk as the rest of them, and he needed help.

* * *

“Dex?” When Matt returned to his apartment around 7:30pm, holding a bag of Thai food for them to share, Dex was no longer huddled up on the couch. Instead, Dex had relocated to the top of the stairs, peering down at Matt from his vantage point. He was hungry again, and Matt shook the bag faintly, as if enticing a wild animal over to feed. “I bought Thai food, I wasn’t sure if it was your thing, but you’re welcome to come and take some, if you like.” Matt spread out the containers on the coffee table, a neutral space for them, then rose to fetch two glasses from the kitchen. As he poured out water for both of them, Matt heard Dex descend the stairs slowly, padding over on socked feet to the takeaway, where he poked and prodded at the offered dishes. Matt had bought an assortment of foods, and Dex lifted up a bag of spring rolls, unfurling the twisted end of the bag and inhaling deeply. His growling stomach clearly made its opinion of the rolls known, and Dex retreated to the top of the stairs again, before plucking out one of the treats and taking a bite.

As Dex ate, Matt took a seat facing him, and slid Dex’s glass of water over to the other side of the table for him to get later. Also feeling hungry, Matt scooped up his own container of Pad Thai, keeping one ear on the rustling of the bag from above him. Matt wanted to talk, to break the silence, so tentatively, he cleared his throat.

“Foggy and Karen are fine, we managed to sort out the details of that case.” The rustling paused, and Dex swallowed, sucking his fingertips of the grease that had smudged on them. “We talked for a couple hours, just catching up. Have you had a good day, Dex?”

“…It’s been okay.”

“Did you get any sleep? You must be tired.” Matt _knew_ Dex was tired, he could hear the stiffness in Dex’s muscles, his posture was uncomfortable, hunched, and his voice was heavy with exhaustion.

“Can’t sleep.” Dex admitted under his breath, and for the first time since he had come home, a small amount of frustration leaked into his tone.

“Ah. Maybe you’ll rest better once you’ve had something to eat?”

“Yeah.” Matt could hear more rustling, before Dex started on another spring roll. He had yet to join Matt at the coffee table, but Matt wasn’t concerned that Dex was eating so far away from him. If Dex needed his space in order to feel safe, then Matt wasn’t about to force his way past the other man’s boundaries. What little of Dex’s trust he had, could easily be shattered, and the last thing Matt wanted was for Dex to take off in upset, and end up god knows where.

They spent the rest of dinner in a comfortable silence, with the outside sounds of Hell’s Kitchen permeating the quiet apartment. Half an hour later, Matt was lounging back, having finished his meal, when he heard the soft crinkles of Dex folding up his empty paper bag. Licking his lips, Matt glanced up in Dex’s general direction.

“There’s plenty of leftovers down here, if you want some more? I ordered extra, I didn’t know what you liked.” Silence. Matt waited half a minute, then leant forward again and gently started gathering the containers into a stack. “I’ll put them in the fridge, you can get some later if you feel like it.”

As Matt placed the containers in his (admittedly) abysmally stocked fridge, the sudden piercing squeal of an ambulance siren ripped past the apartment. The noise hurt Matt’s ears for a few seconds, before the vehicle turned the corner and hurtled down another street. Matt’s ears rung slightly as the sound faded, but as his hearing returned to normal, he became acutely aware of laboured breathing near the top of the stairs. Matt slammed the fridge door and was up the stairs two at a time before he could even register where his feet were taking him. Dex, huddled at the top of the stairs, had his hands pressed over his ears, and was moaning something under his breath that sounded like _“No…no…”_ Dex repeated it, over and over, and his chest was heaving. As he hyperventilated, Matt could hear Dex’s heart pounding dangerously fast, and his pleas became fainter the more he started to pass out. Trying to get his attention, Matt tentatively touched his shoulders, crouched at eye level so’s not to loom over the frightened man.

“Dex? Dex, hey…hey… look at me.” Matt squeezed Dex’s shoulders a little harder, and thankfully, Dex didn’t lash out at him. Instead, Dex seemed to break out of whatever memory he was wrestling with. His hands lowered from his ears, and Dex let out a broken sob as his whole body started to shake. It was hard to listen to, but Matt kept his hands on Dex’s shoulders, trying to ground him. “Shh-shh… it’s alright, you’re going to be fine. It was just an ambulance going past, they’re gone now, there’s no more sirens. Try to breath slowly, your heart is beating way too fast right now, I need you to try and bring your pulse down, do you think you can do that?” Dex nodded, and Matt tried to smile as convincingly as possible. “Good. Okay, let’s try it together.”

They stayed like that for the next 10 minutes, and Matt kept his breathing slow, and deep, making sure to listen closely to Dex’s vitals. Dex stopped shaking around the 4th minute, and by the 8th, he had slumped sideways against the wall, even more exhausted than before, as Matt’s hand rubbed slow circles against his shoulder. Once Dex was showing significant improvement, Matt offered him his open palm.

“Let’s get you more comfortable. Come on, I’ll help you on the stairs.”

Dex’s clammy hand grasped his own, and Matt pulled him up slowly to a swaying stand. Together, they descended the steps one at a time, and by the time he had gently pushed Dex into sitting on the sofa, the other man was aware enough to take the glass of water Matt placed in his hands.

“Here. Drink some of this, not too fast though.” Dex sighed through his nose, before complying with Matt’s request. It was getting easier to read Dex, Matt mused, as he stood nearby making sure Dex didn’t choke, or drop the glass. Dex slowly worked his way through the glass, before he handed it back to Matt and murmured a quiet _“Thank you”_. The sadness, and shame in his tone broke Matt’s heart, and he mentally vowed to talk to Dex about this later.

“You can sleep on the couch if you like? I’ll bring you some blankets.” Matt offered as he took the glass to the sink. He refilled it, in case Dex got thirsty during the night, and brought it back to the coffee table within Dex’s reach.

“Yes please.” Dex’s voice cracked slightly, his shoulders slumped, and his feet shifted restlessly on the floor. After some shifting around in his dresser, Matt brought out out two thick, heavy blankets from his bedroom, and placed them on the sofa next to Dex’s hip. Matt let the other man fuss with the blankets, unfold them both, and tuck himself underneath their warmth. Dex patted down one of the sofa cushions, rearranged it under his head before he sank his cheek into the softness with a heavy sigh.

Dex must have been tired, as only a minute later, Matt could hear soft snores from the other man, and his measured heartbeats confirmed that he was finally resting. Matt lingered only a few seconds longer, letting the events of only the last 12 hours wash over him. It had been a long, draining day, but he had already made progress with Dex. Later, as Matt lay barely awake in his own bed, he prayed that things would continue to improve, that Dex would eventually come to trust him, whatever the outcome may be.


End file.
